


we're not an olive garden couple, Quentin

by Evanaissante



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because fuck canon, Everyone Is Alive, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Post-Season 4, meaning Quentin, quentin casually goes to therapy because that's healthy and he deserves it, they have a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 11:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20506460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evanaissante/pseuds/Evanaissante
Summary: Quentin and Eliot never had a first date.It doesn't sound like a big deal to Quentin, they're engaged and living together, it seems a bit late to go to Olive Garden and share pleasantries around a defrosted chocolate cake.Eliot disagrees.





	we're not an olive garden couple, Quentin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [portraitofemmy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/portraitofemmy/gifts).

> this is Stupid, Fluffy and Gay  
enjoy!

If Quentin was being honest, it had never really dawned on him that he and Eliot had never had a first date in fifty years, add or take some, of relationship. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, everything that evolved Eliot was something he deeply cared about, but it seemed kind of too late after fighting four potential ends of the world, spending an entire lifetime together, getting resurrected and literally proposing to invite Eliot to get pizza somewhere in a romantic, but awkward because that’s what first dates were like, context.

He said it jokingly one evening while Eliot was mindlessly browsing through lists of wedding venues because he thought that it would be amusing, an _ ahah-funny-but-not-hilarious _situation. Of course, Eliot didn’t take it as a joke.

He actually took it _very _seriously.

“We never had a first date,” He whispered, clearly horrified by Quentin’s statement. 

“We could count that first anniversary at the Mosaic as a first date,” Quentin pointed out because this was turning out like something he was probably going to regret bringing up. 

Eliot glared at him, a literal full-on glare that Quentin had only ever seen directed at Todd. “That wasn’t a date, that was basically a booty call.”

“I told you I love you that night.”

“_Fine _, a very amorous booty call.” Eliot threw aside the magazine he was holding, it folded dramatically on the ground and Quentin slightly wondered if things acted like this naturally around Eliot or if he was spelling every object he touched unconsciously to respond to his aesthetics. “We didn’t have the embarrassing yet charming evening that would have defined our relationship for the ages.”

“I maintain that anniversary night was embarrassing and charming.”

“No, it won’t do.” Eliot jumped up, which should have looked ridiculous because he was wearing one of his ugliest robes, the one that Fen had brought for him last Christmas, but he was regal in every circumstance, the jackass. “Q, I’m going to prepare us a first date.”

Quentin sighed, this was exactly what he had tried to avoid. “You really don’t have to. I don’t particularly look forward to an uncomfortable evening at Olive Garden just because you want to tick off the first date box on our relationship. We’re getting married, El, I think we’re way past that.”

Eliot eyed him up and down, his hazel eyes judging Quentin, but fondly, which was something that could have defined their entire dynamic perfectly. “First thing first, baby Q, we’re never past some corny yet funky romance, that’s how we’ll keep the spark in this marriage.” He pressed a small kiss on Quentin’s cheek, he was smiling into it which meant that had hadn’t just used the word _funky _seriously.

“And, I have to ask, did you bring Alice to Olive Garden while you were dating? Because I hope you’re not associating that poor excuse of Italian food to me or I swear you’re sleeping on the sofa tonight.”

For a week, Quentin thought that was the end of it. He was too busy going to therapy and then going to work to really wonder if Eliot was actually planning anything or if it had been one very theatrical moment that wouldn’t give way to anything else. He should have known really, he had lived with the moment for fifty years, that Eliot wasn’t the type of person to say something and then not do it.

Which was probably why Margo had corned him one morning as he was getting coffee at the local shop with a different coloured tie in each hand. 

“Purple or blue?” Margo asked. She was wearing a puffy shirt that seemed a little too Fillorian for New York so Quentin gathered that she wasn’t actually back, just passing by. 

Quentin considered his two options before remembering that this wasn’t a normal way of greeting people. “What is this for?” 

Margo rolled her eyes, as Margo does when she’s in Quentin’s general perimeter. It’s kind of their shtick. “_ The date_, Coldwater.”

“What date?” He started before it dawned on him, “Wait, Eliot is actually taking me on a first date?”

“Of course, why do you think he’s been sending so many bunnies to Fillory? We’ve been planning this shit since Sunday.”

Quentin didn’t know if that was actually sweet or a little obsessive. “Please tell me he didn’t rent a helicopter, that seems like something the two of you would come up with.”

“A boat was mentioned but Eliot turned the idea down,” Her smile seemed ominous or maybe it was just Margo’s usual level of drama that Quentin had gotten out of touch with. He hadn’t seen her in a while, she’d been too busy ruling Fillory and marrying Fen and Josh to pop up once in a while. He’d missed her. “I think what he planned is a little underwhelming, to me at least, but I’m sure you’re gonna eat that shit up.”

In the end, he didn’t choose a tie. He had tried to imagine what colour he would have picked if Eliot had taken him on a date when they were in Brakebills and the obvious answer was that he wouldn’t have worn one. When he’d told Margo just that, she had smiled and it made him feel like he’d just passed a test he didn’t even know he was taking.

When evening came, Quentin waited for Eliot at home. It seemed a little weird, waiting for your fiancé to take you on a first date in the apartment you were both sharing, petting the cat you’d both adopted, but he played the game because he knew that it was important for Eliot and there was nothing more important for Quentin than Eliot.

When the doorbell rang, he almost got nervous to open the door. It was stupid, he knew who was on the other side and Eliot was the person he was the most comfortable with, but first dates had always made him anxious.

But the stress left his mind the moment he saw Eliot. He wasn’t wearing a suit, like Quentin had expected him to, or even a vest. He actually wasn’t wearing anything that Quentin would have classified as date gear. He was wearing a fluffy green sweater, the one Julia had knitted for him last year and that Quentin particularly liked on him and a pair of sweatpants.

Eliot _never_ wore sweatpants.

“Wait,” Quentin said, his eyes rooming all of Eliot, from his tender smile to his eyes, adorned with the glasses that he had gotten post possession and that he only wore at home, “What’s happening? Aren’t we going on a date?”

Eliot let himself in the apartment, caressing Cleo’s black fur on the way before flinging himself seductively on the sofa, a hand under his chin. “We are,” He replied, obviously very proud of himself for confusing Quentin so much. “I ordered Indian while you were in the shower and I got every version of Ghostbusters from Alice, who says hi by the way.”

Quentin continued to stare at him, perplexed, “But, weren’t we going to a super fancy restaurant? Or like, the opera?”

Eliot lifted himself up a little, his eyes now serious but still incredibly affectionate, “Would you have enjoyed that, Q?”

“Probably not,” Quentin answered, kicking his dress shoes off now that he knew he wasn’t going out, “But, isn’t it what you do on a date?” He didn’t want to mention Mike because he didn’t want to bring the mood down, but he was just so lost. “Don’t you show off a lot and like, hire fire-breathers or something?” He walked to the sofa and let himself get caught between Eliot’s arms.

Half-sitting, Eliot was the same height as him standing, which meant that they were on eye level. “Fire-breathers were for Idri, opera was for Mike.” The name didn’t suck the life out of the room, but it did leave a sour taste on Quentin’s tongue to see how Eliot’s mouth twisted when he pronounced it. “I wanted to impress Idri and Mike and if this was our real first date, I'd want to impress you too. But I also know how to choose things that my partners will like and I don’t think fancy restaurants are the way to your heart, baby Q.”

Would it be too cheesy to tell Eliot that he had already found the way to his heart? And that the idea of this date, a quiet night at home gorging on naan bread and watching bad CGI ghosts getting swallowed up by vacuums, being especially tailored for him made his heart swell in his chest. It probably would be too cheesy.

Instead, he said, “Do you know that I love you?”

Eliot smiled, it was one of those full teeth, imperfect smile that made Quentin weak. “You mentioned it a couple of times.”

When they kissed, Quentin swore he could have felt his heartbeat get in sync with Eliot’s. He was happy, happier than he had ever been in his entire life. Maybe everything they had gone through had let to this moment, a first date with Eliot Waugh in the privacy of their home.

“Hey, Q?”

He hummed against Eliot’s lips, feeling the smile that etched on it getting wider. Eliot’s eyes were beaming with joy and something devious, Quentin loved it.

“I hook up on the first date.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://starryspice.tumblr.com/)


End file.
